Star-Crossed Songbirds
by SylphOfThePaperPlanes
Summary: A world without the 75th Quarter Quell, one different yet not necessarily safer for the two star-crossed lovers from District 12. Proving what it really all comes down to, how much of it was really just an act? (AU diverging from canon during the Victory Tour.)
1. Somewhere Between 6 and 5

((A/N: Hello, Sylph here. Being that this is my first fic in a while, I might be a little bit off with updating, but I'm aiming for chapters on Fridays unless I get a lot of writing done. The story begins (and diverges from canon) on the Victory Tour. Enjoy!))

It was somewhere between Districts 9 and 8 that I broke down. The nights had turned into nightmares in the form of new games and arenas and I always wished I could go without sleep. I was trapped on a train speeding past families I helped destroy, forced to speak words of heartfelt promise during the day.

It was somewhere between 7 and 6 that the screaming began. Waking up peacefully was no longer an option when your voice is ripping through your throat. Peeta had said it happened to him, and I knew there was a reason Haymitch slept with a knife in hand to this day.

It was somewhere between 6 and 5 when I heard my own voice screech out a name I said far too many times in panic. Peeta's voice rang out down the train car, and he appeared in the doorway, slightly out of breath, with hair disheveled.

"Are you okay?" Eyes worried, he took a cautious step into the room, keeping a firm hand on the doorframe.

"Nightmare. Sorry for waking you." I didn't realize how tightly the sheets were bunched in my palms until I mutter. Stopping shaking hands was no easy feat.

"It's fine. I get them too." Though I could only see his vague outline in the dark, I knew he was letting out a sigh of relief. "Would it help you if I... Do you want me to stay?" It was easy to tell how cautiously he picked his words. We barely spoke outside of the spotlight, and even then it was simple things such as "Please pass the salt" and "bless you"s traded without eye contact.

I heard Peeta's footsteps as he walked closer, and I moved over in the bed. The mattress creaked slightly under his weight as he shifted uneasily until he was sitting next to me. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Shaking my head slowly, I let the nightmare wash over me again, ever detail bright as ever. "I'm just scared is all. It's not important." It wasn't worth worrying him. He was already well aware I was falling apart.

"Don't say that. It's important enough to you." I felt his calloused hand carefully remove the sheet from my grasp and twine his fingers in mine. "C'mon, it'll make you feel better just to get it off your chest."

My eyes drifted away from his. I would rather see anything than look him in the eyes. The rain streaked on the windows, the silk sheets, the chandelier shaking slightly with every bump on the track. Anything but see the hurt and fear in his eyes. "I was back in the arena." I ran my free hand through my hair, finally deciding to stare at our intertwined hands.

"It's always the same. I'm aiming my bow at someone. Rue, Prim, Gale..." _You._ I wanted to finish it with, but the word was trapped on the tip of my tongue. "...Always someone I need to protect."

"And?"

"And I shoot." My voice is dull with shock as I continue." I shoot, and I see the moment of fear in their eyes as soon as the arrow hits. Always dead on." My hands start shaking again, and I try to blink away tears. "Peeta, I _kill_ them. I hear them screaming, and I wake up and scream just like them. I can't keep this up. I can't keep killing the people I _love_ every time I try to sleep."

Peeta carefully cupped my face in his hand, gently turning my face to his so he could look me in the eyes. "Katniss, I'm sure this will pass as soon as the tour is over, and we can go back home and-"

It was then that I snapped. Tears flowed freely down my cheeks and my words were pained as I choked them out between the beginnings of sobs. "It was you this time! I woke up screaming your name because I thought you _died_!" I was practically screaming, and forced myself to lower my voice to a whisper. "I can't bear the thought of losing you. I can't."

He studied my face, and I could see through blurred tears the worry in his eyes, the words found frozen in his jaw. He clearly understood what this meant, that he was something more than a cover to save us from Snow. Before I could blink away a single tear, his lips were on mine, sweet and gentle, tentative and cautious. It was a moment of shock before I dared return the kiss, noting how horribly both our hands shook when we parted. "I'll stay with you every night if I have to. I can't bear the thought of losing you either." He placed a light kiss to my forehead before lying back, and I rested my head on his chest.

It was somewhere between districts 6 and 5 that I fell asleep to Peeta's heartbeat, and for the first time in months, dreamed without nightmares.


	2. Buttered Toast

**((I Just had it on hand, so I'll post a second chapter today! Happy late Thanksgiving!))**

It didn't start out as much. By day, we were friends as we always were, speaking the same forced lines to the crowds in a different district every day. Yet things became more sincere as we watched the rebels dragged away in every district. My hand would clasp his, and he would mutter to stay calm and continue. Just continue and give the Capitol what they wanted. Afterwards, we'd share a staged kiss that didn't feel quite as staged anymore before going back to the warm welcome of the train.

The nights, though, were when things were different. Peeta didn't bother knocking anymore, and I didn't bother inviting him in. He simply slid under the cool silk sheets and I let my form curl into his as though we were two lost puzzle pieces finally fitting together. The dead of night was always filled with one of us trying to quell the other's muffled sobs with varying degrees of success. When Peeta woke from his dreams, it was the worst. He was always nearly silent, but his hands always shook violently in mine. Yet he still insisted that I was the worst of the two, often taking over an hour to calm down.

It became a perfect little cycle of being broken and attempting to repair.

That is, until the morning before the Capitol party. The tour was finally drawing to a close, and breakfast was buzzing with excited chatter from Effie.

"Now Peeta, I've talked to your stylist. and she thinks something simpler would be in order for today's party. Portia's always been brilliant at that." Her hands practically flew while she was speaking, making light gestures and picking at a small portion of toast. "Cinna, on the other hand, refused to dull anything down. I managed to convince him not to use fire this time, at least. So help me Katniss, if you had set one thing on fire in that mansion I would have absolutely lost it." With a final bite to the now cold toast, she nodded and stood, excusing herself from the table. "The train arrives at three, and after that it's all prep work and makeup, the interview with Caesar, and then the party, so plan accordingly." Tapping lightly on her wrist where a watch would sit, she left the room in a flurry of over styled hair and excitement.

Haymitch, after a roll of his eyes and a long drink from his flask, looked at us with a mix of shock and joy in his eyes. "Now I'm no expert on the Capitol, but I'm pretty damn sure you two are the perfect image of what Snow wants." He took a heavy bite from the rye toast in hand, smothered with enough butter to drown someone. "And while you two lovebirds have been preening each other's feathers for the past week, the entirety of Panem's had their eyes on you. Including the president himself."

He pointed the bread at us as though to make a point, but all he did was spill droplets of melted butter onto the tablecloth. "I told you to sell it. Sell it to the point that both of you believe it all. Every kiss at every stop on this damn tour seemed so sincere that _I_ almost believed it. Whoever's idea it was to get cozy in the same bed every night should get some type of medal. Cameras ate that up."

Peeta and I looked at eachother, nine parts shock, one part anger and confusion. "_Cameras_?" I hissed. "Who set up _cameras_ in my bedroom?" I clenched my fists, but Peeta put a hand on my shoulder.

"I think she is just wondering why you didn't tell us about the cameras earlier." As good as he was with words, his voice was still slightly strained.

"No, I meant, '_Why the hell are there cameras in my room_?'"

i"Calm down, you two. As bad as the media bug may buzz, they still respected the last shred of personal privacy you two share." At Haymitch's words, Peeta relaxed slightly, and took my hand in his when he saw it inching towards a butter knife. "There happens to be a camera watching the outside of the control room of the train. Which just _happens_ to be down the hall of of our leading lady's bedroom. The footage of Peeta walking in must've gotten leaked, and the networks went wild. Regardless, It might've saved both of your asses from Snow."

He sighed, and took another drink from his glass. "What I was leading up to was that this may not last forever. You two break up, You let this fade, and the rebellion gets their poster girl back. Riots break out, and our fair president does what he does best, murders. All I can do to keep you both alive at this point is make sure that the girl on fire doesn't rise from the Capitol's ashes."

I looked at Peeta and saw confusion in his eyes that matched my own. Haymitch must have taken note of this, and simplified his words. "You gotta make this something eternal. Something that no one can doubt no matter how hard they try." He took a bite of the toast as though he was debating going through with something he was unsure about. "You're getting married."

For a good second, my mouth hung open, but I quickly attempted to regain my composure. "You want me to throw away the rest of my life to keep this act up?" When all I got a was a simple nod, I nodded back slowly, taking Haymitch's glass and downing it in one sip. It burned all the way down, but I still forced on a smile. "Let's do this."

Haymitch stood, swallowing the last of the rye as he walked towards the door. "Good. I'll talk to Cinna about getting rings. You're proposing tonight." With that, he darted out of the dining car with a two fingered salute.

And with him gone, Peeta turned his attention to me. "You're really ready for this?" His eyes were searching, and he still seemed stunned by the entire ordeal.

"Not in the least." I muttered, pushing around the long forgotten eggs on my plate. "But if it helps us, I'll do anything."


	3. An Unlit Match

**((A/N: You may recognize Katniss's dress as the one from the movie, when she arrives at the party. I couldn't help but think it was the perfect dress for the occasion no mater what. Enjoy!))**

Apparently Peeta and I had gotten so close that we no longer needed separate dressing rooms before the interview. This whipped the stylist's and their crews into a frenzy in the small space. "Lift your arms, doll..." Cinna muttered before resewing seams along my side. I knew he had a reputation riding on him, and this was his last big chance with his muse.

Well, until the wedding. But I wasn't willing to focus on that just yet.

With my arms extended, my hand brushed Peeta's, his arms similarly outstretched in the small room as Portia and two other stylists finished the seams of his sleeves of his stormy grey suit jacket. "You ready for the end of life as we know it?" I said with a half smile, trying to break the silence amid the bustling chatter.

He shrugged the best he could in the state he was, and I noted the sweat beading on his forehead. "I asked myself the same question after the Reaping Ceremony. The answer's still no." He was silent for a moment as someone adjusted his collar, but began speaking the second they moved away. "But hey, things won't be that different. We'll be able to relax a bit once the news goes out. Fall off the map back to District 12 again."

And with that, the designers finished up, cutting last minute threads from Peeta's jacket or adding the last plaits of a braid to my hair. Portia tapped on a touchscreen nearby, turning a wall into a floor to ceiling mirror and dimming the harsh lights somewhat. My eyes first landed on my dress. It seemed to be made up of silky red lace at the shoulders cut into sharp points before melting into a solid bodice of a gleaming obsidian color. from that, a translucent silk fabric of the same hue fell down to my ankles. I did a small test of moving my shoulders and took a tentative step forward only to find that the dress was lighter than expected, and was barely a nuisance. "This is different from your normal style." I dared say to Cinna.

"Well, You're different from when I started designing for you. It isn't my style that you're wearing. It's you that I designed for. You're not the girl made up of skin and bones from District 12 anymore." He spoke almost entirely in mutters as he carefully traced my eyelid in eyeliner, adding accents of makeup across my face. "You were a match I had to light to show you your potential, but now you radiate a world of power on your own."

"Thank you. For everything." I whispered, not trusting myself to speak any louder without crying. "Without your dresses, the outfits, _the fire_, I probably wouldn't have gotten sponsors in the arena and-"

"Hush now." With a last flick of the wrist, he finished off my eye makeup. "You know fairly well that this isn't the last you've seen of me. You still have a wedding dress to wear. So don't fail me now, girl on fire, go light up their world." And with that, alongside a clap on the shoulder, I exited the room, knowing Peeta would be right behind me.

The dressing room opened up to the area behind the stage, where Effie and Haymitch appeared to be talking animatedly. Well, Effie was more so the one talking, and Haymitch nodded at the end of every phrase or so. A clock projected a countdown of about four minutes until our interview, so I leaned back against the wall and let my head fall into my hands.

I could feel Peeta's palm rest on my arm and lean closer, his voice low enough that I would be the only one able to hear. "Are you okay?"

"Not really. We're getting _married,_ Peeta. A year ago I was hoping I would have enough to eat for the week, and now we're in the Capitol getting married." It was taking all the effort I had not to cry, just attempting to bottle it up.

He gently removed my hands from my face, and I looked up to find his eyes filled with the same sense of fear nestled deep within them that I felt. "Take things one step at a time. All we have to do tonight is propose, and then go to a party. Then we go back home. The planning will take months, don't worry about it. I'll be there with you the entire time if you want." And we kissed. A light, careful kiss that was more a promise than anything. Moments ticked by and my hands slowly stopped shaking. Seconds after we parted, the buzzer rang, and the all too familiar lights glistened on the stage.

Haymitch, having escaped conversation, ushered us out into the bright flashing world I had become all too familiar with. The voice of Caesar Flickerman boomed over the crowd in laughter. "If it isn't Panem's two favorite lovebirds! Sit, sit! he have so much to talk about!" Wapping my hand tightly in Peeta's we sat on the white leather couch moved center stage, while Caesar sat nearby in a matching chair. His hair was done in the same fashion as last year, though it was dyed a vivid mauve instead of the smooth, royal blue it had used to be.

Once the crowd died down, he spoke again. "So," he steepled his fingers infront of his face as though in thought. "How have the star crossed lovers been settling in?"

"Brilliant actually." Peeta replied with a brilliant smile. "We're planning on moving in together as soon as we get back." While I had never agreed to this nor even heard it brought up in conversation, I nodded.

"Speaking of being together, I'm sure you've heard the rumors of you two getting... _cozy_ on the Tour, based on some footage from a security camera on the train." Motioning to the screen behind him, crisp security footage began to roll, with the date marked about the night between our stops at districts 5 and 4. Sure enough, it showed Peeta quietly walking into my room. It wasn't much to go by, but it was enough to send the audience off in remarks of good humor.

"I can't say that the rumors are false, Caesar." I began, eyes flickering to the crowd. "Peeta and I have been spending a good amount more time together." I internally cursed myself for not letting Peeta answer this one, being that he was far better with words. Still, it took several minutes for the crowd to calm down before we could continue.

The host broke the steeple of his fingers to gesture to the audience. "Don't mind them, dear, we're the main event." He broke out into a peal of his own laughter before quickly composing himself. "So what have both of you taken away from your experience in the games?"

"Well Katniss got a mockingjay tattoo." Peeta quipped, a smirk lighting up his features. "Not allowed to say where though." I not-so-subtly stepped on his foot, setting the audience off again, this time purely in laughter. "But really, I think the best thing we had gotten from the Games," On that, he stood, removing something from his pocket before kneeling before me. "Was each other. Katniss Everdeen, Will you marry me?"

For a long moment, I was in shock. The ring in his hand was one of white gold, and had miniscule diamonds spotted around the band. In the center though, was what I had first assumed to be coal, was actually a black diamond. I didn't have to worry about pretending to tear up, as they were already flowing. "Yes!" I managed to spit out after what must have been a minute or two. he slipped the ring onto my finger, and quickly stood to catch my lips in a kiss.

For the first time, It wasn't staged. It wasn't in need of comfort. For the first time, we shared a genuine kiss.


	4. Willow Branch Swing

The sun had already set by the time we had arrived at the mansion, but it seemed the party had only barely begun. People in the Capitol's gaudy clothing milled about, sharing greetings and gossip as though it was second nature.

Not five minutes in, Peeta and I had been stopped at least ten times by people wanting to get a single word in about how "darling" and "miraculous" our future marriage would be. That of course, caused us to try and find an inconspicuous corner to wait out the rest of the evening. We spent the next hour seated on the floor between two potted plants making quips about how some guests were dressed, and darting over to the vast buffet to bring back small plates of the most elaborate foods one could imagine. It worked perfectly. No one suspected the people of the hour to be hiding just below eye level, so we stayed until people began moving away from the center of the room.

"Looks like people are starting to dance." Peeta whispered, putting down his plate. "They'll be expecting the couple of the hour up there."

"Well come on then. We aren't the type known to disappoint." I replied, discarding my own plate. He stood before me, straightening his suit before extending a hand to help me up.

We walked hand in hand to the edge of the dance floor to find a string quartet playing a slow piece while couples quietly swayed with a grace that could only be taught. "I don't know how to dance like this..." I muttered, watching the forms sway with measured swiftness. It must have taken hours of lessons to learn how to step so perfectly in time with another.

"Neither do I." Peeta's hand squeezed mine, and he smiled. "Remember the day at school that they taught us the willow branch swing?"

I vaguely recalled the day in class that we were paired up and taught to do a simple, traditional dance that was popular in our district during small parties and the weddings of richer members. "Yes, but I don't-"

"Then let's show the Capitol exactly what District 12 is capable of." With that, Peeta practically pulled me into the center of the floor, and several of the dancing couples took notice, quietly slipping away into the crowd.

There was a moment of hesitation while we got into position. While the Capitol dancers had started with the lady's hands on the man's shoulders, and his hands at her waist, the way we were taught involved each person resting their hands on each other's forearms, creating a box of sorts. I looked up from our interlocked arms, and Peeta gave a slight nod, and stepped into the first moves of the dance.

While the quartet was still playing the old song, we attempted to get the feel of each other's movements. It was a slightly messy ordeal, with Peeta having to account for his leg, and the stepping on of each other's toes. Our movements didn't match the slower pace of the classical piece, but by the time we had gotten a hang of the lefts and rights, there had been a ruffle of papers and the beginning of a familiar fiddle tune. It was far faster, and we finally found our steps in line at a pace we could deal with.

The dance started in a relatively simple fashion. Step to the left, back, right and forward, each step with a slight sway to it and within half a second of each other. Things picked up once we got used to it. Steps came faster and were interspersed with us spinning, never forgetting the key four steps, no matter what direction they began to face. Then things got complicated. We had never learned much more than this in school, but being that Peeta had been in the upper class of our district, he had seen a fair amount more parties and had the chance to practice. he broke the square formed by our arms, sending me off on arm's length twirls and before meeting him back and reconnecting our arms. We found ourselves closer and closer each time until the music faded and we halted, breathing heavily. The crowd around us was deafening, and I swayed slightly before Peeta's hands caught me at my sides.

"One for the cameras?" He whispered, pressing his forehead to mine. I didn't even answer, instead pressing my lips to his for a brief moment while the crowd roared around us. We parted and I couldn't help but smile. Was that all it really took to excite these people? A bit of basic dancing was enough to send them over the edge if it was foreign to them.

After that, socializing didn't seem too horrible. Any glance over to the dance floor would reveal at least two couples trying to recreate the fast moving footsteps and twirls we had completed without much of a problem. They still attempted to bring their slow, cautious steps to a dance meant to be carefree and one to lose themselves in, and it was far more than obvious that they had no idea what they were doing.

An announcement ran through the mansion calling for the guests to find their way into the backyard for the President's speech and fireworks. Peeta and I filed out to the lush garden dotted with roses alongside the hundreds of other guests to find Snow on a balcony overlooking the entire party with a champagne glass in hand.

"My fair citizens of the Capitol, alongside our guests of honor, I am here today to congratulate the victors of the 74th annual Hunger Games. May their success stand a tribute to the strength of our nation, and let them prove that Panem is able to overcome any and all challenges. I will keep things brief, as I'm sure many of you want to see the fireworks, and of course, our star-crossed lovers do have a train to catch." He seemed to laugh to himself before facing the audience with his glass raised. "To another fruitful year of the Games." he toasted before downing the glass.

From behind us, I head fireworks exploding, and I held Peeta's hand tighter while I closed my eyes. The sound rang far too similar to the cannons in the arena. When I composed myself, I looked up to see Snow's gaze meeting mine. I may have been imagining, but I could swear I saw him smile and nod once.


	5. Three Days

**((Guess who was home sick for the past 3 days and had extra time to write?))**

Peeta and I had managed to keep straight, calm faces all the way to the train, but the second we entered the familiar parlor car we broke into smiles and laughter. They bought it. Snow bought it. As the train pulled away from the bright lights of the Capitol in the darkened night, Haymitch and Effie joined us in a celebratory drink, and Peeta slipped on his wedding band in order to match my ring.

"You did it." Haymitch announced after his first glass of scotch, a familiar sparkle in his eyes that could only be taken as pride. Drunken pride at that. "Honestly didn't think you two would pull through. And the line about the mockingjay tattoo..." He broke down in a fit of laughter, and didn't bother picking up the conversation once he had regained mild control.

Effie on the other hand, took the conversation and ran with it, careful to keep her flute of champagne balanced in her hand. "I could not possibly think of a delivery like that. Peeta, dear, you are absolutely wonderful at planning. And let's not forget the party. I worried, since I lost you for a good hour or so, and you show up on the dance floor as though you two had been born there. Half the Capitol must already be signed up for classes on the... what is it called again, the willow branch stomp? Nonetheless, you absolutely have to teach me..." While Haymitch was a drunk who would only become amiable between glasses, Effie's words spiraled quieter and quieter as the glass slowly emptied. Eventually she had to excuse herself for the night, and Haymitch declared that everyone else should leave, as he was crashing in the parlor.

"The celebratory booze is in this car," He muttered in a half drunk, half exhausted state. "and I feel like this is some time to really celebrate."

After getting kicked out, I found myself in my room, staring at the ceiling for a good five minutes in awe and exhaustion. It hadn't set in until now that I was safe. I had bought myself a one way ticket into the spotlight in order to escape being a figurehead of the rebellion, and it /worked/. The wedding ring lent an odd weight to my left hand splayed on the pillow beside me, but I didn't bother taking it off.

Sleep slowly began to take me away, and I barely noticed Peeta get into the bed beside me and wrap his hand around mine. I almost didn't notice his light kiss to my forehead or the way he whispered "I love you." before he fell asleep.

Almost.

The trip from the Capitol to District 12 would take three more days, and without stops or parties to have to attend, I had more free time than I was used to. Most of the first day was spent in the observation car at the back of the train. With the entirety of the back wall a curved glass window, I watched districts pass while a television on a nearby table projected the same old stories interspersed with clips about the proposal and Snow's party.

Some time in the later afternoon, Peeta came into the car with a smear of green across his cheek and a plate of bread and cheese. Passing by the projector, he paused to watch the clip of him kneeling down and taking out a ring that had played at least fifty times in the past nine hours before clicking off the set.

"Do I want to know what's on your face?" I asked, watching him put down the tray and sit next to me on the couch that lined the inside of the window.

"I've been painting." He took a roll from the basket, inspected it, and took a tentative bite. "They always oversalt the cheese rolls for some reason." He offered me the offending food, and I eagerly took it.

"Painting?" I managed to mumble out between bites of bread. I didn't understand why he thought it was so salty, but he had been baking his entire life. "I didn't know you were into that."

"Yeah, well there's a subtle lack of cakes on this train for me to decorate, and I'm not exactly up for blending into the wallpaper in my spare time." He picked up a slice of bread with what I recognized as Rosemary baked into it.

I tried not to laugh and risk spitting out the now somewhat saltier roll. "What type of stuff do you usually paint?" I said after managing to regain control.

"Usually portraits, landscapes, really anything from memory." I nodded in response, and we fell into a comfortable silence. Occasionally he would comment on the quality of the bread, and eventually I insisted on wiping the paint off his face using a napkin and a glass of water, but after an hour I flicked on the television to find another rerun of interview from the day before.

"Were you serious?" I couldn't help but ask him once the interview concluded, and the voices of the commentary continued.

"About what?" He put down the roll in his hand, and muted the newscasters rolling on the projector.

"About me moving in with you. I mean, I get to keep up the image, but I'm pretty sure your family doesn't want me around."

"If you want to move in, sure. My family didn't want to move into the victor's village, if that's what you're saying." Peeta's eye contact broke, and he stared at the carpet. "Said that all they need's still at the bakery." I could barely imagine Peeta in the huge, empty house alone. Granted, I knew what his family situation was like, but it was still a bit of a shock to know that they didn't want to even acknowledge his victory.

"Well, all I need right now is in this train car." I finally said.

"Really?" he finally looked up, and held my hand in his.

"Yeah. Television, bread, and a comfortable couch."

I earned a light smack to the back of the head, but Peeta couldn't help but laugh.

The next two days went by rather quickly. The second day consisted of a bright and shining Effie declaring that, in a train full of District 12 natives, she would learn the dance we had done at the party if it killed her. (She didn't bother trying to get the name right in any case.)

The rest of the day was spent in a relatively empty room where she would have space to spin and dance. Peeta and I led by example, and she was paired with Haymitch so he could help her more precisely. She was slow at first to pick it up, but eventually, after taking off a dangerously high pair of heels, she seemed to get a hang of it.

When Peeta and I sat down to watch how she performed on her own, Haymitch stepped in and taught her extravagant moves that he claimed were learned by going to the mayor's parties every month for the last twenty five years. They seemed to have fun, twirling and dancing as though they were lost in their own steps. Eventually, we found a dusty old gramophone and records of music that sounded close enough to what we considered District 12's folk music, and they attempted to match the beat with varying degrees of success. The day slowly slipped below the horizon, and everyone called it quits and headed out to eat dinner before retiring to bed.

The third day was mostly packing, as we would finally be arriving home in the early afternoon. I had a duffel bag of clothes I needed waiting in the parlor car, and Peeta had a carrying case for his canvases alongside a small suitcase.

During our final meal on the train, a simple lunch made up of salad and a soup I couldn't place the name of, Haymitch set his silverware down and looked at us. "Now it's about time that you two start meeting victors from other districts. Connections are what make this nation go round, and you two are single points connected only to each other."

I looked up from skewering a leaf of lettuce with the word of other victors. It never really crossed my mind that I would have to interact with them. "How do you suggest we go about doing that?"

"Well normally would go about telling you two to write letters to them, but being that you have something to celebrate with those fancy rings of yours, a party might be in order."

Peeta idly stared outside the window, watching the familiar forests pass. "So you want us to invite people who killed our friends and family over for lunch."

"Of course not. I'm inviting a few people I've personally met and trust, some big names out there you might want to keep in touch with. Most of them are mentors, so you'll be seeing a lot from them in the coming years anyway. I'm sending out the invitations as soon as we stop in twelve, and the party's next Saturday. Got that?" Peeta and I both nodded slowly, our eyes more focused on the familiar buildings now coming into view. It would be minutes until we pulled into the station, so we quickly gathered our bags.

As the train slowed to a halt and the doors hissed open, I counted ten people waiting for us on the platform. Peeta's parents, his two older brothers, Prim, my mother, the mayor, his daughter Madge, and two peacekeepers looked at us expectantly as we stepped onto the cold, cracked concrete.

Ten people, but the one person I had expected was missing.

Gale.


	6. Things Change

I spent five minutes being welcomed back by everyone at the station and promising Peeta that I would stop by later to bring some of my things over, possibly everything if there was enough time. After that, I almost ran past the nicer areas of the district to the point that it turned to the gritty, poor areas of the Seam. It should be any minute now that the whistle went off to release the miner's from work for lunch. For a good five minutes, I stand just past the entrance to the mine, eyes focused on the elevator.

The the whistle blows and the clunky trundling of the lift rings through the streets. Within seconds, the gates open and faces I recognize flood the area. Gale was one of the last ones out, his face coated so thickly in coal dust that I barely recognized him. Luckily, he noticed me, and walked over quickly.

"Careful, girl on fire. You could blow the entire mine if you step too close." A smile lit up his face, and I forgot how much I had missed it on the tour.

"And to think I almost missed you while I was gone." I laughed, and he began as well, though it didn't reach his eyes. "What's wrong?"

Gale said nothing, but his eyes flitted to the diamond ring sitting on my left hand. I sighed, knowing the discussion wouldn't be a light and happy welcome back.

"Why?" His expression wasn't one of fury, just sadness and frustration. He seemed far older than nineteen without a gleam in his eye.

"Gale, we had to. Do you understand what on earth I'm up against-"

"I understand completely. You were in an arena of people trying to kill you, and it was your only way out. But you aren't in the arena anymore, Catnip."

My voice turned steely, and I lost all traces of care in it. "Don't you dare tell me that there's no one against me. I was the poster girl of some sort of rebellion and I wanted out. Do you think I wanted to doll myself up for the Capitol? I don't want to be Snow's plaything, but I would rather that than risk losing my life. Or losing anyone. I'm still in the arena. I'm never going to be able to leave it."

"I would do anything to make a change in this damn nation, and all you're doing is throwing that chance away. I'm here risking my life in the mine that killed our fathers for scraps. Rory had to take out Tesserae this year because I can't hunt anymore. I can't think of a single reason you would still be clinging onto Peeta other tha-" Realization hit him, warping his features from anger to pure sadness. "Tell me it's just an act. That you're only doing this to cover your own hide. You don't want any of this hitzy-ditzy marriage stuff and that he's only around now to protect you." I could hear the sharp desperation in the muttered words, but I didn't move to say anything. I absentmindedly rubbed the ring still looped onto my finger while the awkward silence extended.

Workers flooded back to the entrance of the mine, their break apparently over.

"Well?" He practically breathed the response.

"He means as much to me as you do. He saved my life. Twice."

"Great. Now I know where we stand. See you around, Katni- I mean, Mrs. Mellark."

His words hurt, and I knew he meant them to. I didn't give him the satisfaction of tears as he walked back to the lift, when he slowly descended into the mines, or when I walked back to Victor's Village. He wanted rebellion against the Capitol, and he saw me as just another one of their figureheads. I wish he had been in the arena, having to pick between madly in love or hunted, in District 11 when it was everyone I loved dead or living the way I needed, on the train when I was told that everything I did wasn't good enough, and that a ring was the only way out.

I wanted him to see what Peeta had.

I trudged dully up to Peeta's doorstep, and didn't even bother knocking. I walked into the entryway, and as expected, he came out of the livingroom to greet me. Saying nothing, I wrapped my arms around him, burying my face in his chest. He seemed to understand, and carefully put his arms around me.

I had made the fatal mistake of assuming nothing would change.


	7. An Old Relic in a New Home

The rest of the afternoon was filled with trips across the street, carrying boxes of photos and clothes until everything that I would need was in Peeta's house, while my mother and sister still had everything they needed back at mine.

He had tried to ask me why I had been upset, but I had been quiet about it, giving clipped answers about how it was "hard coming back home." or that "I'm just tired."

It wasn't until I had finished placing the photos on the mantle that I caved in.

"It was Gale, wasn't it?" Peeta asked, lounging on the lush sofa nearby.

I hesitated, spending an extra moment straightening the frames in front of me before turning around. "Yes."

He sat up sharply, obviously shocked to get an actual answer. "What'd he say to you?"

I sat down next to him, thinking of how to word it. "It wasn't what he said. It was what I didn't." Receiving a confused look, I elaborated. "Gale was upset that I didn't take my position at the lead of the rebellion when I had the chance."

"If he wants, he can go do something himself. Why he's vicariously living his revolution through you is beyond me." Peeta ruffled my hair lightly at this, and I forced a smile. It was true that I thought Gale was being unfair, but a year ago I would have jumped at any chance to change something in Panem. A year ago, I didn't know the risks of stepping out of line.

I must have sat there in thought for too long, as Peeta cleared his throat. "Forget him. We still have two hours to unpack before the Harvest Festival."

Snapping back to reality, I nodded. "C'mon. I still have to unpack my clothes." I stood, and, knowing he would follow me, I went upstairs to the hallway. There were four doors, one for a bathroom and three for bedrooms. I had stacked the few boxes holding needed outfits by the stairs, and made caution not to trip over them.

"So..." Peeta started, the question he hadn't yet asked one I already knew. "Are we going to be sharing a room? N-not to be weird, I mean we are going to be married soon..."

I lifted one of the boxes, shrugging. "If not, we're probably going to end up sleeping in each other's beds if someone had a nightmare."

"So sharing it is." He lifted two of the boxes, carrying them into the room I assumed was his. While the house was built identical to mine, it seemed like someone else was in charge of decorating his. While the room in my old house was covered in a light blue wall paper with intricate designs alongside a stark cream carpet, Peeta's room had walls of a warm marigold and dark hardwood floors polished to a bright sheen. Now that I thought about it, his house seemed more welcoming with deep olives, grays, golds, and reds that made up the decor in comparison to the icy blues and whites of the house across the street. The home seemed far more lived in than mine, even though I knew that Peeta was the only resident.

I dropped the box onto the floor and sat on the ash gray sheets of the bed, admiring the entirety of the space. "I could get used to this." I said with a smirk.

He followed suit, dropping down next to me with his hands behind his head."I hoped you would. It's not what I'm used to either, but it's home."

The next hour and a half was us sitting around, cracking jokes, and occasionally making headway on unpacking the few clothes I had brought over. It wasn't until it was thirty minutes before the Festival that we decided to get ready. I snatched a blue denim dress from the box that the stylists had given me for occasions they might not be around alongside my father's old leather jacket. After changing in the bathroom, I decided it didn't really go well together, but it was good enough and comfortable, at least. And anyway, it was District 12. There wasn't really anyone here I was aiming to impress.

Walking back into the bedroom to get my shoes, I found Peeta in front of a mirror, buttoning up a silvery vest over a white dress shirt. "You clean up nicely without a team of stylists." I commented, snagging my pair of boots from the closet and sitting on the edge of the bed to put them on.

He turned around and gave my outfit a quick look. "And you're... Getting better at it." I rolled my eyes and continued to lace up my shoes, but to my surprise, he walked over, sitting beside me. "You know what would go better with it though?" At this, he caught my attention, and I looked up from the half tied shoe. He carefully moved the leather jacket off my left shoulder so that the collar sat on my elbow.

Just as I was about to ask what the hell he thought he was doing, Peeta held up a fairly familiar token, the mockingjay pin, and clipped it to my dress, directly above my heart. I brought my hand up to rest where his still lingered on the tarnished gold. We stayed that way for several seconds before I leaned in and let my lips meet his.

It was perfect and incomplete all at once, with my fingers wrapping around his and his other hand sitting lightly at the base of my neck. I felt our rings clink against each other and the pin that started it all.

We broke apart the kiss in a bubble of laughter, but didn't move from our moment in frozen time. Peeta's eyes were wide and searching, trying to take in the entirety of the past few minutes before it all dissipated.

"We should probably start heading into town." I whispered, and he snapped back to reality.

"Oh, yeah..." He muttered before standing and smoothing out his shirt. Before he turned away, I caught a hint of a blush spreading across his cheeks.

And for some reason, it didn't seem so unusual.


	8. The Day Before

**((Thank you so much to everyone who favorited and reviewed! I've had a small bout of writer's block lately, but you guys were my motivation to keep going!))**

The Harvest Festival came and went, and I slowly settled back into a routine. Almost a week went by with me struggling through early morning fog as to why I wasn't in my own bed, or why there was a form parallel to mine. Eventually though, it faded into a calm cycle.

Peeta took over the cooking. It wasn't that I was bad at it, but that he preferred to do it. I wasn't about to step in the way of that, and besides, whatever he cooked ended up being amazing. I would usually help out, but he always lost himself in making a dish to the point that he would barely answer if you spoke to him.

I tried to spend as much of my time as possible outdoors. The biting cold seemed less threatening when I could come back to a warm fire in the livingroom and the smell of any random assortment of pastries coming from the kitchen.

Sometimes I would take laps around the nicer parts of town before dipping into the Seam. Other occasions called for an early breakfast and a full morning out in the woods, occasionally hunting, other times just sitting and taking in the sounds of the mockingjays mixing with the other birds.

It was far too early Friday morning when we found Haymitch standing in our entryway.

Peeta leaned against the railing of the stairway, clearly irritated. "Did you let yourself in?"

"Hey, you left the door unlocked." He shrugged in reply. "But that's not the point. I hope you two had a darling honeymoon, but it's time to snap back to reality. It's all confirmed. Victors are coming over tomorrow, if you forgot. They'll be spending the night, so make sure your guest rooms are all neatened up. Train arrives at ten o'clock tomorrow. Sharp." I had actually let the entire ordeal about the party slip my mind. I had doubted the victors would get the permission to ride the train over, but now I had no idea what to do.

"And Princess?" Haymitch asked, and I instantly snapped out of my train of thought, looking up. I must have been scowling, or at least seemed in some way annoyed, as his hands went up in defense. "You may want to smile a bit when you have guests over. It might do you some good."

I might have taken the advice well, had it not been before the sun had properly had time to rise. The whistle that called for the work in the mines to begin was probably over an hour away, and sleep was still heavy in my mind. I had been up for most of the night, plagued by dreams of new Games and arenas. Instead of thanking him for the advice though, I rolled my eyes. "Talk to me in the afternoon, when both of us are sensible." I didn't even wait for a response before going into the livingroom and falling into one of the couches. I lacked any sort of energy that would get me back upstairs. I doubt I was still awake when my head hit the fabric of the sofa.

The first thing I noticed was a warmth around my shoulders that was not there before. Opening my eyes, I found a soft grey blanket draped carefully onto me, and early afternoon light flooding the room. Hearing the light clinking of pots and pans, I made my way to the kitchen.

I found Peeta leaning over a cake, carefully adding frosting touches in the form of swirls and swoops. The two-tiered cake was a warm cream color while any decoration was in deep golds.

He was just finished smoothing any last fold in the fondant when he saw me. "You're up. I was getting worried you'd sleep through the entire day."

"Well I'm glad I didn't. Wish you would have woken me to taste the cake batter though." I said with a smirk, pointing to the fully decorated masterpiece on the table.

"You're in luck. I was about to make some bread for tomorrow. Care to help?" Knowing him, "some" equated to at least five loaves of bread, and I assumed it would be a worthwhile waste of time. I nodded, and he carefully moved the cake from the counter to the table, out of the way of any working hands or mishap. "Care to put your ring in the bowl on the table? Don't want to bake it into anything."

I complied, following up by taking out most of the materials I knew were needed, and Peeta snatched the rest. He went about setting bowls on the counter, instructing me what to mix where while completing a batch of his own. He seemed to know the measurements by heart, and stuck to them with deadly accuracy. When it came time to knead, he guided my hands in the motions to stretch and shape the dough before covering it to rise.

Whenever there was time, whether we were waiting for the yeast to rise or a loaf to bake, we started on another. It was just clockwork, occasionally adding in assortments of ingredients ranging from honey to cheese to rosemary to anise seeds.

It was the fourth loaf of bread, a cheddar baked loaf, that Peeta had started to take out of the oven, not realizing how close his elbow was to the heated rack before it was too late. He lightly hissed at the heat before dropping the bread. As soon as it made contact with the ground, he flinched, his features clouding up.

"What's wrong?" I asked, wetting a towel and pressing it to his elbow. I also snatched an oven mitt, moving the fallen bread to the counter and out of the way of footsteps.

"I uh, It's nothing. My mom just used to get... upset when my brothers or I dropped anything in the bakery. She called us wasteful." He took the compress from me, and I knew all too well that "upset" was an understatement.

"Well mistakes are fine here. I swept the floor yesterday, and I'm sure Haymitch wouldn't mind if I gave it to him. I'll bring it to him later. C'mon, we still have two more loaves to bake." I saw his features regain focus, and a smile shyly found a way to his face.


End file.
